


Neon Moon

by taitofan



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Puns, Established Relationship, Guilt, Jealousy, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Polyamory, Present Tense, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taitofan/pseuds/taitofan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans doesn't trust Mettaton with his brother.</p>
<p>But maybe Mettaton isn't the one he has to worry about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If there’s one person who deserves a good dunking, Sans thinks, it’s that lousy excuse for a robot.  The one who thinks he can just waltz in and be everything Papyrus had ever thought he was and more.  The same robot who, despite appearances and public persona, has been nothing but sweet and charming and ridiculously _chaste_ to Papyrus since they’ve started dating.

Sans hates it. Sans hates _Mettaton_.  It doesn’t seem to matter how many warnings or dirty looks or outright _threats_ that Sans throws his way—Mettaton keeps coming back to Papyrus.  Sans knows—he just _knows_ —that it’s only a matter of time before Mettaton screws up and shows his true colors, and when that happens, he’ll be there, ready to defend his brother’s honor in the most painful manner he can muster.

It just isn’t happening nearly quickly enough for Sans’ taste, and it’s _really_ pissing him off.

Even now, as he watches Mettaton smiling so genuinely at his brother, Sans can feel his normally chill attitude flaring up.  Mettaton _should_ be in a right snit, considering his date with Papyrus was all but ruined by Sans’ insistence at tagging along.  He isn’t though; Mettaton never looks more than mildly put out, as if being with Papyrus is worth all the hassle he puts up with otherwise.  Sans figures it’s all a trick, and he never backs off.  He’ll catch Mettaton; it’s only a matter of time.

…Right?

He glances at Papyrus, who looks even happier than he normally does.  His brother has been on cloud nine since he and Mettaton hooked up, and that’s really the only reason Sans hasn’t just gotten it over with and junked Mettaton.  He won’t let Mettaton hurt Papyrus, but he isn’t going to hurt his brother either.  That’s why he waits, keeping a close eye on Mettaton.  He’s even started watching those ridiculous tv shows the prima donna stars in, looking for any excuse, _anything_.

Sans turns back to Mettaton, and the way he’s looking at Papyrus makes Sans want to hurt something.  Mettaton is so… _disgustingly_ devoted.  Utterly enamored.  He has it as bad for Papyrus as Papyrus has it for him.  Sans almost wishes he’d just stayed home.

A thought comes unbidden to Sans, and it shakes him to his core.

‘ _Why doesn’t he look at_ me _that way?_ ’

No, no, he thinks, that isn’t right at all.  He doesn’t want that—he _hates_ Mettaton.  Mettaton, who isn’t good for his brother, who’s sure to hurt him, who—

Who is so _stunningly_ gorgeous as the light hits him _just_ right that Sans’ heart would skip a beat if he had one.

He quickly looks back at Papyrus, feeling dazed at this sudden line of thought that plagues him.  It’s a mistake.

‘ _What do_ you _have that_ I _don’t?_ ’

Papyrus is his world, and Sans would do anything to protect his brother.  The thought that he might actually be _jealous_ of Papyrus is almost laughable.

Sans isn’t laughing.

“Sans, are you quite alright, darling?”

Mettaton talks like that to everyone, so Sans knows it’s nothing special— _Papyrus_ gets all the really unique cutesy pet names—but his words definitely don’t help Sans’ current state of mind.  It takes a moment for Sans to collect himself enough to answer, but if the look Mettaton is giving him is any indication, he must look anything _but_ composed.

He mutters an excuse about not feeling well and flees as quickly as his pride will allow him.  He has a feeling their date will be cut short because of his actions, but for once, that makes him feel guilty rather than satisfied.

Sans won’t let _anyone_ hurt Papyrus, and that includes himself.  But what is he supposed to do _now_ …?

He finally laughs, cheerless and empty.

 _‘…I’m boned_.’


	2. Chapter 2

Sans is honestly a little surprised that he gets Papyrus to forget about his sudden departure so easily.  A few bad puns and promises to eat spaghetti and Papyrus doesn’t bring it up again, even a week later.  Sans has never been more relieved that his brother is more than a bit naïve.

 At the same time, he wishes that Papyrus was perhaps a bit _more_ oblivious, because now he’s picking up on other things that Sans really doesn’t want him to realize.

“Sans!  I’m so glad to see you taking an interest in Mettaton’s informative programming!  Seeing you two get along is such a relief!”

Sans thinks that something must be very wrong with him—more than just the obvious reason—because he doesn’t even hear Papyrus come home until he speaks.  He would have shut off the tv if he had.  As it is, Mettaton—in his boxy form, which Sans hates to admit isn’t exactly bad on the eyes either—can clearly be seen zipping across the set.  It’s the cooking show, and Sans knows that the amount of energy Mettaton is giving his routine isn’t needed in the least.  At the same time, he also knows that it wouldn’t be _Mettaton_ if the enthusiasm for his performance wasn’t off the charts.

It’s a little terrifying to realize that everything he previously hated Mettaton for was really him trying desperately not to come to terms with his attraction to his brother’s boyfriend.  The only thing he hates now is himself, because he still can’t help that pang of jealousy he feels when he sees Papyrus and Mettaton together.

“There was nothing else on,” he lies with a half-shrug, trying to look as disinterested as he can.  He doesn’t know what to say about the “getting along” part, so he ignores it.  While Sans never threatened Mettaton when Papyrus was around, he wonders how much of the tension Papyrus caught onto, consciously or not.  Maybe the fact that Sans has been avoiding being around Mettaton at all has led Papyrus to think they’re on better terms.  Who knows?  After all the years Papyrus has been alive, Sans still doesn’t always know what’s going on in his head.  “Gotta do _something_ while you’re off having a good time.”

He’s relieved when that doesn’t come out as bitter as he feels.

Papyrus laughs heartily, and Sans assumes that means his brother doesn’t really understand what’s going on.  Good, that’s how he wants it.

“Sans, what about Toriel?  You could visit her!  Or you could not be lazy and finally pick up your sock!”  Sans all but freezes.  Oh.  Well, that’s fine, he thinks.  Papyrus knowing something is wrong is still different from Papyrus knowing _what’s_ wrong.  “Or you could just admit that you’d like to be friends with Mettaton!”

_Friends_.  He almost laughs.  Perhaps Sans is actually the naïve one, thinking that Papyrus was completely oblivious to the situation.  His brother is getting dangerously close to the truth, and Sans is genuinely at a loss.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, bro.”  Papyrus’s expression tells Sans that he clearly doesn’t believe the lie.  “Don’t look so far into what I watch on tv.”

Papyrus doesn’t answer immediately.  He’s usually only this quiet when Sans has told a terrible joke or he’s focusing on a puzzle.  Finally, he says what Sans thinks might be the worst thing he could say, barring him outright declaring “ _I know you want a piece of my boyfriend_.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but don’t lie to me!  You only would have turned my and Mettaton’s dates into a threesome if you wanted to be his friend!  Or perhaps if you didn’t trust him, but I know that’s not the truth!  You would have to think very little of my judgment to think _that_!”

Sans can’t help but be infinitely grateful that he’s not one of those monsters with pesky little things like skin or blood vessels.  He’s never been so relieved that skeletons can’t blush, as he’s sure he’d be bright red—from both shame _and_ embarrassment—if it were possible.  How can Papyrus be so right while still being so _very_ wrong?

“…If I admit I don’t hate Mettaton, will you leave me alone?”

“You must also admit you wish to befriend him!”

Sans plays up his dramatic sigh—it’s all he can do to look even partway composed.

“Fine.  I wouldn’t mind being his friend.”

He also wouldn’t mind getting his hands on that metallic body and seeing exactly what makes it tick, but he refuses to entertain such thoughts with his brother in the room.  Especially now that Papyrus is gloating about what a genius he is and how he’s going to have Mettaton come over right away, and what great friends Sans and Mettaton will end up being, and—

Sans stops listening.  He wants to refuse, to come up with an excuse as to why he shouldn’t see Mettaton at all, but he’s always had a hard time denying Papyrus anything.  Besides, he thinks, it’s not like Mettaton or Papyrus will pay him much mind once they’re together and start acting all love struck…

He stops that envious thought in its tracks as well.

He’ll do as Papyrus wants, and absolutely nothing will come of it.  Perhaps it’s even a good thing.  The sooner he has to interact with Mettaton, the sooner he can reaffirm what a good actor he is.  Neither of them will ever know the shameful desires he harbors for his brother’s lover.  Everything will at least go back to _looking_ normal.  After all, if he was able to fool everyone into thinking he was nothing but a lazy slob, _this_ should be simple.

…Though he really, _really_ wishes Papyrus hadn’t put the word “threesome” into his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

When Papyrus said he’d get Mettaton to come over as soon as possible, Sans should have known that his brother meant just that—Papyrus ran to his room, emailed Mettaton, and in exactly the amount of time it takes someone to quickly travel from Hotland to Snowdin, there’s a knock on their door.

Amazing.

Papyrus is opening the door and greeting Mettaton before Sans can even decide if immediately going to his room is considered “hiding” or not.  In the end, he can’t bring himself to flee, not when Papyrus quickly brings Mettaton over to him, as if Papyrus knows what will happen if he doesn’t force Sans to stay put.  Really, Sans thinks, his brother isn’t stupid.  Part of Sans even wonders if maybe Papyrus knows more than he’s letting on.

Papyrus is talking, but Sans isn’t quite hearing the words.  He wears his easy grin as if he isn’t staring at Mettaton, whose metallic body is still catching the light far more than it has any right to.  Does he oil his body?  Or wax it?  Whatever he does, Sans is almost positive that Mettaton uses one of his own branded products, and Papyrus probably has three bottles of the stuff in his room that he’ll never use.  Maybe Papyrus uses them on Mettaton?

His mind wanders to the thought of Papyrus waxing Mettaton’s legs until they shine like the stars, and he’s filled with the nauseating combination of envy and excitement.

“So, I, the great Papyrus, will be back momentarily!  Please, take this opportunity to become best friends while you wait for my triumphant return!”

Mettaton leans over and kisses Papyrus’s cheekbone softly before Papyrus laughs heartily and all but runs out the door.  Mettaton watches him leave, and the moment they’re alone, he turns to Sans and frowns.

“I don’t suppose you know why he has it in his head that we need to become best friends in the half an hour it will take him to get the ingredients for his “Best Friends Spaghetti”?”

Well, at least now Sans knows what Papyrus had been going on about as he thought terrible things instead of paying attention.  That’s something, he supposes.

“Couldn’t tell you.”  Or, rather, he _won’t_.  He may _want_ to do a lot of things when it comes to Mettaton, but he refuses to hurt his brother by acting on any of his desires.  “Guess he just wants us to get along.”

Mettaton sighs lightly and, after a moment of apparent deliberation, gestures to the empty spot on the couch.  Sans almost ignores him out of habit, but he thinks better of it and nods.  Mettaton sits, his weight dipping the couch down.  There’s always a bit of whirling that accompanies the robot, but now it’s a little louder, a little more pronounced.  Sans tries to keep it cool when he notices Mettaton’s body shaking.

“…You okay?”

Mettaton turns to him and offers a smile.  It’s obviously weaker than what he was going for, because Mettaton never gives anything but smiles to rival the sun.

“It’s nothing, darling, don’t worry about me!  I normally adjust my sensors as I get closer to Snowdin, so the cold doesn’t affect me as badly, but Papyrus seemed so excited for me to get here as soon as possible that I rushed right over without thinking!  It’s my fault, but I’ll be fine.  My circuits just need to warm up a bit.”

Sans thinks about what sorts of things could warm Mettaton up, and he’s more than a little disgusted with himself.

“Heh.  You really love my brother, don’t you?”  Mettaton looks surprised at the question, and Sans doesn’t blame him.  The first time Mettaton had asked Sans to back off because he loved Papyrus and would never hurt him, Sans had laughed in his face.  “I mean, you wouldn’t run into weather that could freeze your gears for just anyone, would you?”

“I _do_ love him,” Mettaton replies after a few moments, regarding Sans carefully, probably trying to compute the probability of a dunking in his future if he answers wrong.  Sans doesn’t think he could bring himself to do it unless Mettaton straight up hurt Papyrus out of spite, but Sans doesn’t see that _ever_ happening.  “I know you don’t want to see Papyrus hurt, and I know how I come across, but I _love_ him.  Papyrus is _incredible_ , and I’ve never met anyone else who makes me feel like he does.  He loves _me_ , not just my fame or my looks.  I assure you, I won’t hurt him anymore than he’ll hurt me.  We love each other, darling, we really do.”

Of course they do.  Deep down, Sans has never really doubted that.  He just…

God, he wishes there was room for _him_ in the equation.

“Yeah, I hear you.  You better keep loving him too or you’re going to have a bad time.”

His heart isn’t in his threat, and judging by Mettaton’s brilliant smile, he knows it.

“Of course, darling, of course.”  Mettaton scoots closer to him, and Sans can smell the MTT brand cologne on him.  He barely has the capacity to wonder how a robot wears cologne.  “Now, Papyrus wants us to be friends, doesn’t he?  Tell me more about yourself.  Let’s see if it matches with all the praise Papyrus constantly gives you.”

He thinks Mettaton gives him a wink, but it’s hard to tell when he can only see one of Mettaton’s eyes.  God, why is thinking so hard all of a sudden?

“I, uh, I like jokes.”

“I’ve come to realize that,” Mettaton replies, nodding patiently and gesturing for him to continue.  Sans feels like a fool.  What can he tell Mettaton that isn’t something Papyrus has already said or is just plain ridiculous?  “What else?”

“I study quantum physics,” he blurts out before he can stop himself.  Mettaton, rather than look disbelieving or laugh, lights up at the admission.

“Oh my, darling, how lovely!  Papyrus said you were smart, but I had no idea!”  He moves even closer, and their knees—or what passes for them—bump together.  Mettaton doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care.  Sans is quite sure he secretly cares enough for the both of them.  “Tell me more…”

Sans doesn’t know what Mettaton knows about the subject, so he throws out some basic theories and some of his favorite points of interest.  Mettaton listens intently, and neither realizes how long they’ve been talking until Papyrus bursts back into the house with his bag of ingredients.

“I am back, and the Best Friend Spaghetti making may now commence!”  Papyrus pauses, and Sans freezes as he realizes that his brother is looking at their touching knees.  Papyrus looks up to Mettaton, and they share a long look before Papyrus smiles even more and heads towards the kitchen.  “You two continue getting close while I cook!”

Mettaton isn’t fazed by any of his boyfriend’s antics, and he soon turns back to Sans with a smile that is one step away from being seductive.  It’s a far cry from how he looked before, and Sans wonders just what’s going on all of a sudden.

“Well, _best friend_ , do continue.  Or, if you’d rather, you could tell me all about which of my shows you like the most?  Papyrus tells me you’ve started watching them quite regularly.”

Sans groans as Papyrus yells from the kitchen that “Sans likes your quiz show the best, though your cooking show is obviously superior!” and Mettaton eats up the praise.  Still, he doesn’t like talking about his hobby with Papyrus around, and he likes that look on Mettaton’s face, so he takes the bait.

“I’m afraid my brother is blinded to the superiority of quizzes to cooking.”  Papyrus yells angrily from the kitchen, and Sans laughs, feeling much more at ease than he has been for a long time.  Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.  He must have been imagining the heavy atmosphere before…

Then Mettaton leans in and murmurs, “Here’s a question for you, darling.  Would you smooch a robot?”

Sans can’t answer for many long moments as he ponders if Mettaton really just asked that, or if he suddenly fell into some sort of fever dream.  But Mettaton is smirking and he can still smell that cologne, and the room is suddenly very hot.

“What are my options?” he finally manages to ask.

Mettaton laughs and abruptly stands up, walking towards the kitchen with an extra sway in his hips.  Without turnings around, he answers—“A, B, and C are _Yes_.  D is _Hell yes_.”

Sans knows his answer, though he doesn’t say anything.  He’s pretty sure that Mettaton knows it too.  Does Papyrus know too?  Is this a set up?  Just what the hell is going on?

Sans slumps back into the lumpy couch and prays that this really is just a fever dream.


	4. Chapter 4

Sans isn’t sure why Best Friend Spaghetti tastes exactly like Papyrus’s normal spaghetti.  Apparently it’s a different recipe, but it makes him vaguely nauseous in all the same ways.  Still, he eats it because he loathes the idea of hurting his brother, even if it’s just his feelings and because of the painful truth.

That doesn’t stop him from sneaking glances at Mettaton whenever he can.  God, he thinks, he’s such _trash_.

Mettaton’s demeanor is back to how it was before that little incident, and Sans still wonders what it was all about.  He tries not to dwell on it, and it isn’t terribly difficult as he spends most of his effort trying to look like he’s enjoying his dinner.  Really, he’s quite the fantastic actor, and he knows it.  Just, apparently, not when it comes to hiding his growing attraction to one particular robot.

“Papyrus, sweetheart, this is simply divine.  You’re such an excellent cook!”  Mettaton, Sans knows, can turn off his sense of taste at will.  He’s _absolutely sure_ that Mettaton has that disabled at the moment.  But it makes Papyrus puff up with pride, and even before this all started, Sans wouldn’t have been able to expose the truth.  “It’s so lovely of you to make a special meal to celebrating the fact that Sans and I are _best friends_.”

Sans freezes at the words, but not because of what Mettaton is saying.  Rather, it’s what Mettaton is _doing_.

There’s a gentle scraping along the side of his left fibula, obviously coming from something metal.  Say, a  very shapely and attractive metal leg that Mettaton is so proud of.  He outright stares at Mettaton in disbelief, all words escaping him.  If he was confused by the robot’s actions before, then the bewilderment he feels now is tenfold.

Mettaton’s leg moves upwards, past his patella and halfway up his femur before the feeling disappears.  All the while, Mettaton chats happily with Papyrus, never giving any indication as to what he’s doing.  It’s maddening, but Sans tries to brush it off, thinking that perhaps Mettaton had somehow meant to do that to Papyrus.

But then the leg is back, on his _tibia_ this time, and he starts to sweat.

He stands abruptly, causing Papyrus and Mettaton to turn to him, looks of shock on their faces.  Mettaton is a great actor too, Sans thinks.

“What’s wrong?”  Papyrus asks, just as loudly and genuinely as he says everything.  Papyrus, his dear brother, who doesn’t deserve to have this happening to him.  Sans can’t even begin to be pleased with Mettaton’s attention when it means Papyrus is getting hurt because of it.  And _Mettaton_ …!  “You look ill, Sans.  Perhaps more spaghetti will help!”

“I don’t think so, bro.”  He turns his attention to Mettaton, who still has the gall to look concerned.  If Sans had blood, he was sure it would be boiling. How _dare_ he.  He can feel his magic swirling around him, and he hates that he can’t even feel any satisfaction in the worry that cracks Mettaton’s carefully constructed mask.  “You know, I thought I’d made a mistake about you.  A big one.  But I can see I was wrong.”

He doesn’t want to say more, not in front of Papyrus.  Even if Mettaton is an unfaithful bastard, he can’t bring himself to hurt his brother more.  Not so bluntly.  Maybe the threat of a good dunking can get Mettaton to leave on his own, he thinks.  Maybe if Mettaton is gone, everything can just go back to the way it was.  Maybe—

 “Sans, I know that I, the great Papyrus, am not easily mistaken!  Surely you did not _dislike_ what Mettaton did?  I was quite sure you would enjoy that.”

Sans stops.  His magical aura dissipates from the air, and he can’t even _think_ for many long moments.  Papyrus thought…?  Papyrus knew…?

Did what he _thinks_ just happened _seriously_ just happen?

“Sweetheart, I think we need to tell Sans about our little plan.”  Mettaton looks at Sans, flashing him a smile that’s equal parts apologetic and anxious.  “You know, before he decides that I look better in a trashcan.”

No, there is absolutely _no way_.

“Yes, I suppose our jig is up!  We must reveal our most genius plot so that Sans will stop moping about!”

...Did he honestly just get played like a fiddle by _Papyrus_?


	5. Chapter 5

“Your plot,” Sans repeats slowly, feeling rather dumbfounded.  Mettaton looks between the brothers, not seeming fully convinced that Papyrus knows what he’s doing.  Papyrus though—oh, Papyrus!  His brother can’t look more proud of himself if he tried.  “You _planned_ this?”

“Sans, your infatuation with Mettaton was very clear from the beginning!  At first I was afraid that you hated Mettaton for some strange reason, almost as if you didn’t trust my judgment of his character!  But I quickly ruled that out.  After all, I know you have more faith in me than _that_!”  Sans chuckles, hoping his guilt isn’t as obvious to Papyrus as his infatuation apparently is.  Papyrus doesn’t seem to notice though, and he turns to Mettaton with a warm expression.  “I love Mettaton with all of my being, but I love you just as much!  So when I realized your true burning passion for Mettaton, I knew what I must do!”

“He asked me to come over and try those little stunts,” Mettaton continues as Papyrus laughs at his genius.  He looks a bit more confident—it suits him far better, Sans thinks.  “I couldn’t say no…  I didn’t want to!  Darling, I can’t lie and say I wasn’t excited at the thought of being with _both_ of you.  So if you’d like—”

“We may share!”

Share.  Sans feels as if he could laugh—probably until he cried—but for many long moments he can do nothing but try to accept this turn of fate.  All of that worrying and guilt and self-loathing and Papyrus wants to _share_.  And Mettaton _likes_ the idea.

“Well…  I can’t say I saw this coming.”  He wears his typical lazy grin, despite how dizzy he feels.  It’s finally hitting him— _Mettaton wants to be with him_.  He feels like some kid with their first crush, and he supposes there’s a lick of truth to that.  He’s far from being a kid, but he can fully admit that romance has never been high on his list of priorities.  But Mettaton has changed his opinion on the subject, if just a little.  “Sharing, _huh_ …”

“I was correct in my assumption, was I not?”  Sans nods slowly and Papyrus laughs happily.  “But of course!  The great Papyrus is always right!”

Mettaton turns his soft smile to Sans—it’s so genuine, so unlike the arrogant grin he wears for the camera—and the magic in the air seems to tingle.  God, why is this robot so captivating?

“I take it this means you’d indeed like to join us?”  Sans wants to say something along the lines of ‘ _You bet your sweet metal ass I do_ ,’ but all he can manage is a silent nod.  “Then I’ll be sure to make you just as happy as Papyrus and I are.”

Sans, for once, lets himself believe that a happy ending is truly within his grasp.  After all, Papyrus _is_ an excellent judge of character, and he refuses to forget that again.  Perhaps he could have skipped some of those painful nights if he’d just come clean to his brother in the first place.  Well, what is done is done, and he knows he can only move forward from here.

“…Would you say you’ll make me happy a Metta- _ton_?”

The mood lightens considerably as Mettaton begins to giggle madly and Papyrus all but shrieks that this isn’t the time for terrible puns, though his grin tells Sans that his brother secretly approves.  Sans decides that this atmosphere is something that he could get used to.

This is one golden ending worth fighting for.

\---

Sans waits for Papyrus to return home from his sentry duties by watching TV.  Mettaton—in his boxy body—wheels across the stage from the kitchen set he’s been working at.  All throughout the hour, he’s made sure to incorporate more trivia in the show, and Sans knows that far more cooking questions are making it into his quiz show.  It’s such a little thing, but it makes Sans smile all the same, and Papyrus had almost started to cry when he’d realized it.

“That’s all for tonight, my beautiful fans!” the televised robot announces with his usual pizzazz.

“Are your fans as beautiful as me?”  Sans jokes, leaning into Mettaton’s humanoid body.  Mettaton smirks and places a kiss to Sans’ cranium.

“There are many things I’d call you, darling, but I’m not sure beautiful is one of them.  You’re handsome, but _I’m_ the beautiful one.”  Sans can’t disagree.  “You know, not that I mind watching myself light up the stage, but maybe we could wait for Papyrus some other way…?”

The implication is clear, and while Sans has found that actually acting on his fantasies is far more work than simply thinking about them, it’s one bit of physical effort he’s willing to exert himself on.  _A bit_.  Thankfully, he knows from experience that Mettaton doesn’t mind doing most of the hard work.

“You gonna rattle my bones?” he asks as a hand slips between his ribs and begins to touch him ever so gently, teasingly.  Sans shivers and leans more heavily into Mettaton, more than willing to let him take the lead and do as he pleases.

“Oh, darling, I’m going to do so much more than _that_.”

Mettaton has done well to live up to his promise, and as Sans lets himself get lost in Mettaton’s expert touch, he can’t help but think that he has a really cool brother for letting him in on something as great as this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, but there might be a sequel...?


End file.
